Lizzie
by meldahlie
Summary: A missing moment, a mystery, and a happy little tale from the background of "The Evidence of Things Not Seen."


Lizzie

A missing moment, a mystery, and a happy little tale from the background of "The Evidence of Things Not Seen."

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 _A/N: Cookies for those who guessed from the title!_

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A good horseman tends his horse before himself. Garian knew that, even if he only qualified as a boy and not a man. "Some day," he said to Lizzie, as he whisked her bridle off and snatched up a handful of hay to wipe it with. "Some day soon I'll be a proper horseman."

Lizzie just lowered her head and muzzled at Garian's hair with her worn-down teeth. Perhaps it was simply that she was hungry, but Garian was taking it for a sign of agreement. Lizzie wasn't a Talking Horse, but she was clever. And she should know about horsemen. She'd been a fine blood mare on Lord Sopespian's estate. She must have seen plenty of horsemen and horse-boys in her day.

None of them, though, Garian pointed out to himself as he hooked the bridle onto its peg and snatched up the corn scoop and Lizzie's bucket, could have tended her at such a price of self-sacrifice. His stomach was absolutely flapping. He was sure nobody on a grand estate would have suffered from that problem.

Hungry or not, horseman or horse-boy, he would always take good care of Lizzie. But there was nothing to stop him hurrying. Garian banged down her dinner bucket with one hand, the other hand with a fresh bunch of hay already starting to rub down Lizzie's sweat-shining chestnut neck. It was just hard to hurry fast enough today, when he couldn't stop himself from stopping every other second to feel the coin in the pocket of his well-patched tunic.

His great-aunt would be delighted by the money. A growing boy of twelve eats a lot. It was a tight squeeze to get the tiny garden behind their tumbledown cottage to feed them both and still produce some vegetables to sell. And there was no spare money now. It had taken every copper "Lantern" and silver "Tree" from the old jar hidden under the bed to buy Lizzie, the oldest and most lack-lustre mare in the grand sale ordered by the new King Caspian of the late, treacherous Lord Sopespian's estate.

She would earn money. That was all his great-aunt had cared about. Garian himself had cared about the dim spark in Lizzie's eye. There had been _something_ about her, a something that had been missing from the other horses in the cheap lots at the end of the sale.

Did not today's mystery prove that?

Lizzie was already proving to be a help with the money. She grazed on the common and turned it into manure with such dedication that the carrots and cabbages had reached a prodigious size and number. Garian and Lizzie had taken them to all the local villages, not just the nearest one, and brought home a steady trickle of small coins. But there had still been cabbages over. So Garian had hit on the idea of taking them on the long trek through the woods to the castle at Beaversdam. Maybe they had enough cabbages of their own. But maybe they hadn't. Or at least not as big and fine as the ones which had grown on Lizzie's manure.

They – Garian, Lizzie and cabbages – had gone today. Garian hadn't told his great-aunt where they were going. She would have been worried by thought of him going so far and so deep through the woods, to get to Beaversdam. But he was twelve, now! And it wasn't as if the woods were dangerous any more, since King Caspian had taken the throne last year and all the Trees had awoken again.

More than once on the long walk, Garian had paused to say a "Good day" to a Dryad, flitting along the path. That in itself would have made the long walk worthwhile, for a Dryad's smile brightened any day. But he had also sold every cabbage, and got an invitation from the cook to come back with carrots another day – and then the mysterious thing had happened.

One of the grand ladies who lived in the castle had come to the kitchen door to see what was happening, and had suddenly cried out, as if she had been stung by a wasp. For a moment, Garian had thought she was about to start crying, as if she were a little girl not a grand lady. Certainly, her eyes had filled with tears. But then the lady had blinked, and the little girl look had sort of vanished from her face, and she had calmly stepped out of the door and asked Garian's name and that of Lizzie.

She had, really, not seemed such a very grand and grown-up lady at all, at that point. She'd asked all the sorts of questions Garian had asked about Lizzie at the sale, and fondled Lizzie on the nose and round the ears just like a boy would. Lizzie had seemed to like it, and the lady hadn't seemed to mind when Lizzie had expressed this by putting her nose down and mumbling at her pockets. The lady had simply laughed, and fetched an apple for Lizzie and a slice of bread and honeycomb for Garian.

That had been very nice. The mystery had been when he had finished it. For the lady had suddenly handed him not a copper, but a solid gold "Lion". And while Garian had been gaping at it, too stunned to say thank you, the lady had gone to Lizzie's head, and kissed her on the muzzle and said 'Take care, Felicia.'

It didn't make sense. Because the man selling Lizzie had said that was her full name. But Garian preferred Lizzie. And he knew he had introduced her only as that, in answer to the lady's questions.

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End file.
